A woman holds her hands away from her face.
A visual representation of a woman experiencing abuse. Credit: Shutterstock Credit: Shutterstock

Warning: This article is about femicide. If you are experiencing intimate partner violence, there are resources available to help: https://www.sheltersafe.ca/

On March 27, 1996, a 4 ft, 7 inches tall, 50-year-old middle-class white woman was found beaten to death with a crowbar in her apartment by her boyfriend, also white, 50-something, recently divorced, successful careerwise. Her face was rendered unrecognizable. Her white leather couch and wall behind splattered red. Neighbours above, below and beside heard yelling. “Stop! Stop! You’re hurting me”.  But did nothing. A lot of yelling happened in that apartment over the past few weeks. They thought it best not to get involved. 

Once the still-clothed, mangled body lay still, the victim’s boyfriend grabbed her keys, went down the elevator, stole her car and drove off. He was later found dead, in her car—carbon monoxide poisoning. A close friend told the reporter, “He was stalking her for several weeks. Male friends and even male strangers, on occasion, intervened when he tried to grab her and “talk” . For example, while heading to her car after shopping at the mall.  She was terrified but didn’t want to call the police. She didn’t want to cause trouble for him. He had grown kids. She just wanted him to go away. He had no prior record of violence. “He is just going through a rough patch.” The same close friend advised her to change the locks weeks ago. The friend asked not to be identified. She was afraid of him, too. 

That close friend was my mother. The victim, Isabelle, her best friend. They were relationally as tight as twins. They talked every day. Isabelle was the cool auntie to my sister and me. We had all met the boyfriend on a few occasions. He seemed meh, but OK. I still have the newspaper clipping from that day and the crystal vase she gave me for my birthday just months before. 

That was 28 years ago. I still think about that day. It changed how I thought about my own safety and the safety of women and girls in general. 

Today, over 11 million Canadians, just over 25 per cent  of us, have directly experienced gender-based violence in our lifetime. If we consider friends and family affected, that adds up to almost all of us knowing someone who has experienced GBV. 

Happy holidays. But we need to act now.

I get it. I, too, need a break from bad news, but femicide and gender-based violence is a fast-metastasizing cancer; It doesn’t take holidays. It feeds on them.

The Canadian Women’s Foundation (CWF) reports 44 per cent of women in Canada experience intimate partner abuse in their lifetime, with rates even higher for marginalized groups such as Indigenous women, women with disabilities, and 2SLGBTQIA+ individuals. At that rate, this epidemic truly touches us all. 

Despite 30+ years of advocacy (16 Days of Activism, launched in 1991, Ecole Polytechnic National Memorial Day, 1989) and important policy changes such as Bill S-249 (Georgina’s Law), we have yet to curb the trend. Sexual assault is the only class of violent crime that is growing.

In August 2023, the federal government acknowledged gender-based violence as an epidemic. Meanwhile, Ontario Premier Doug Ford, he says, needs more time to determine if an epidemic exists.

If we want to end gender-based violence, the call for stricter gun licensing requirements and illegal weapon acquisition enforcement needs to continue. We need to direct our governments fund more shelters now. However, we must also stop throwing these issues over the institutional fence. We need to leverage — the power of us.  

We are the answer

Institutional funding and legal change will never be enough. While changes in laws and the judicial system provide legitimacy and deterrence, they rarely trickle down to catalyze real cultural change on the streets and in the homes.  

The truth is that gender-based violence (GBV) is our collective problem. It comes down to you and me. 

In my ideal world, femicidal men like Wayne (the boyfriend in my story) would not exist in the first place because misogyny would be extant. Nor would bystander effect—where people are frozen by not knowing how to help in a crisis.  

However, back to our reality. Misogyny is not going anywhere soon unless we work together to throw this way of thinking in the trash heap along with “the world is flat” beliefs from centuries ago.

CWF President and CEO Mitzi Hunter is rightly concerned, “While funding has increased, COVID has elevated GBV rates.  Plus, the recent U.S. election results have raised concerns about potential impacts on women’s rights and gender-based violence. When political figures who have been accused of perpetuating or downplaying gender-based violence remain in power, it can embolden harmful societal attitudes, as has been seen in the rise of online abuse and misogynistic rhetoric on platforms like X and TikTok following the election. “

We genuinely need all hands on deck. In 2025, let’s make Canada safer for women and girls, everyone. Here’s how to step up: 

  • Equip yourself: Visit CWF’s signalforhelp.ca for downloadable tools, tips, and training on responding in supportive, nonjudgmental ways. 
  • Give: Support Shelter Movers, a national charity that helps women and children move out and into shelters quickly. 

And let us know in the comments if you did.  

pk mutch

pk mutch

pk mutch is intersectional feminist, serial social, digital, post growth entrepreneur​, educator and journalist interested in amplifying the work happening in the feminist economy.